Cowboys and Angels
by BeagleHolly
Summary: AU - Dean and Sam Winchester are trying their best to save the family business - breeding, training, and competing Quarter Horses- with help from their surrogate father, ex-rodeo-star Bobby Singer. At a major horse show at the County Fair, the Winchesters clash with two wealthy competitors, Castiel and Gabriel Novak. Will they be able to overcome their prejudices?
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

A/N: I am trying my hand at AU-fic and own absolutely nothing. Name of the story is from Dustin Lynch's Cowboys and Angels. Forest County is not based on anywhere in particular, and any similarities to any one place are unintentional. Reviews and the like = awesome!

The fair opened for the first day of the season July 1st. Herds of people flocked to the county's biggest event of the year, riding roller coasters, drinking too much beer under the hot sun, looking at arts and crafts and animals, and attending performances on the dozens of stages scattered about the grounds. While the turnout was incredible, the biggest attraction – the Annual Forest County Horse Show- wouldn't start until July 5th, and by then, even more people would be expected.

In one of the three horse barns, Dean and Sam Winchester were grooming their horses after practicing for their upcoming barrel racing competitions. Both were dressed in lightweight button-up shirts, faded jeans, and cowboy boots and hats. They smelled pungently of horses and sweat, and were covered in thin layers of dust. After a great practice, both boys were feeling a pleasant mix of tired and confident.

"You think Impala's going to do better than Dodge?" Sam scoffed, calling through the bars separating the two horses' stalls. "She's going to be a hundred years old this year."  
"Shut up, bitch," Dean scowled, tossing a clump of sawdust at his brother.

"Jerk." Sam stuck out his tongue, and laughed as the sawdust fell harmlessly to the ground. "We're going to kick their asses, Dodge."

Sam's horse, a sleek, powerful-looking black quarter horse, ignored him and continuing munching on his hay. Sam patted the horse's neck affectionately. He was so blessed to have Dodge. Dean's and his trainer was an old family friend, Bobby Singer, a curmudgeonly, but ultimately soft-hearted man, who had had a terrible car accident leaving his legs paralyzed. When their mother had died in a barn fire, along with most of their horses, Bobby had hired on their father as his farm manager and when their father had too passed on, had basically become their surrogate father. After the accident had cut his competitive career short, Bobby had given Sam Dodge, a horse so well-bred and full of potential, that Sam never would have been able to afford him otherwise. While Sam hated charity, he wouldn't look this gift horse in the mouth.

Dean's horse, on the other hand, was somewhat of an eyesore. When Impala was younger, she had carried Dean and Sam's father to victory hundreds of times. Since the mare had turned out to be infertile, their father had considered her worthless for his and Bobby's business, but loved her too much to sell her. Instead, he gave her to Dean so he could learn to ride and get invested in the family business – breeding, training, and competing Quarter Horses. The old mare wasn't much to look at, with an overly long neck and back, short legs, and a bulky head. Yet, she still had those powerful Quarter Horse hindquarters, and, as their father had put it, "the kind of good breeding you don't see anymore.

"I wonder if anyone's ever going to claim those stalls," Sam said, noticing the empty row of stalls across the barn aisle. "Shouldn't they be here by now?"

"I heard it's one of those fancy, rich-kid stables," Dean muttered. "You know, fifty thousand dollar horses, engraved tack boxes, stable hands to do the chores."

"Ugh, I'm so sick of them," Sam groaned. "How much do you want to bet they don't ride Western? You know, they wear those awful, tan tights instead of jeans?"

"Yeah, a bunch of whiny, spoiled rich girls and their neurotic horses," Dean said. "Hey, speak of the devil."

He gestured to the barn doors, where a large horse trailer had just parked. Two men, obviously hired stablehands, were unlatching the trailer door. A few girls jumped out of a nearby truck and began unloading their gear. The boys couldn't help but watch in horror as the girls began hanging up expensive-looking horse cooling sheets. Each was monogrammed with the letters P.F. in fancy cursive and each one probably cost more than Dean and Sam's monthly living expenses. The girls next began decorating the stalls with elegant, velvety banners that read: "Paradise Farms – breeding and training Heaven's Horses since 1950." Each rider had a custom-made T-shirt with the same words on the fronts and little angel wings emblazoned on the backs.

"Those have got to be the gayest things I've ever seen," Dean chuckled. "Imagine a dude wearing one."

"Excuse me?" a voice called icily from the aisle. The speaker was a striking guy, about Sam's age, with piercing blue eyes and a body that looking surprisingly good in his winged shirt. He was leading a well-groomed black and white Appaloosa, who also had eerily blue eyes.

"Ignore them," a boy behind him said. This boy was shorter, with golden-brown hair that matched his horse's coat. The horse was not particularly tall or muscular for a Quarter Horse, but he had a look in his eye that suggested these features belied his true abilities. "Just get Jimmy in his stall so we can get out of here."

The blue-eyed boy muttered under his breath, but led his horse away. He put his horse away in an empty stall and hung up a small banner, which read, "Jimmy, owned by Castiel Novak."

Dean slipped out of Impala's stall, flustered and hoping to get a chance to apologize, but the shorter boy stopped and turned to face him before he could. "You have good taste, Brokeback, but he's taken," he added, with a wink, before leading his horse away. The boy put his horse in a stall adjacent to Jimmy's, and tacked up a similar banner, which read, "Loki, owned by Gabriel Novak."

Sam quickly stowed their brushes in their ancient tack box, and pulled Dean after him. "Come on. We should probably go talk to Bobby about our rides."


	2. Chapter 2: Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

A/N: Thanks for the follows and reviews, everyone! Any feedback = always awesome.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Dean followed Sam to the competitors' parking lot. He felt a bit embarrassed at having offended with his throwaway comment. After so many years of hanging out with rodeo guys, tough, macho males quick to mock anything potentially feminine, he figured some of that attitude had rubbed off on him, apparently for the worse.

"Dean-" Sam began, before Dean interrupted.

"I know, I'll apologize later. Jesus, I'm so used to…" Dean trailed off. Talking about his feelings wasn't something he was particularly good at, but luckily, Sam was usually able to figure out his feelings without Dean having to say anything particularly coherent.

"I get it, you didn't mean anything by it. But you've got to be more careful with how you talk to people. If only to avoid fights." Sam smiled, clapping him on the back.

"Not everyone can be as amazingly tactful as you, Sammy," Dean groaned. "Now enough with this girly feelings crap."

"Did you learn nothing from what just happened?" Sam rolled his eyes. "Let's try not to be massive jerks about everything."

"Ugh…wait, is that Bobby?" Dean asked, pointing in the direction of their beat-up truck and trailer. A scruffy man in a wheelchair was making his way towards their truck. A familiar trucker cap was pulled down over his eyes.

"Hey, Bobby!" Sam called, waving a hand to catch the man's attention. "I thought you were staying back home?"

"And miss you two idjits' biggest competition? Don't forget, your performances reflect on my training abilities, so I figured I should probably come make sure you don't screw everything up."

"Nice to see you too," Sam smiled. "We were just going to call you about our practice this morning."

Sam and Bobby discussed the morning's events as they headed back to the barn. Dean shuffled after them, still beating himself up over his faux pas, kicking a pebble as he walked. He couldn't tell what annoyed him more: his mistake or how much his mistake was bothering him.

"Last time I checked, you were competing too. Do you think I don't need to know about your practice?" Bobby snapped, as the pebble ricocheted off the back of his neck. "Why are you being such a mopey princess?"

"He accidentally offended someone by calling their clothes gay," Sam explained.

"Jesus, boy, part of the reason we're here is to get business by showing how professional and accomplished we are," Bobby scolded, rubbing his neck. "Let's keep the homophobic redneck cowboy act to a minimum."

"I'm not homo-," Dean grumbled, but Bobby cut him off again.

"So, who's here?" Bobby asked, turning back to Sammy, who, to be fair, was the more professional and organized one. Besides the Angels, as Dean was calling their new neighbors, Dean hadn't remembered to scope out the competition yet.

"You know, Hatfield Acres, the Lloyds, the Harvelles, and Wright Ranch," Sam said. "Some other places I don't know much about, some that don't matter much…Besides the Harvelles, we're sharing the aisle with some ritzy place called Paradise Farms. They have quite a few horses."

The Harvelles were old friends, a mother-and-daughter duo who owned a fairly well-known training stable, Roadhouse Ranch, near Bobby's place. Ellen had purchased the stable with her husband and named the place after her parents' old bar. After winning the Kentucky Derby, her husband, a famous jockey, had been murdered the night of the Preakness Stakes. Ellen kept the stable running smoothly, switching to retraining problem horses and breeding high-quality pleasure horses instead of racehorses after his death, but had tried to prevent her daughter from getting involved in horse business by banning her from riding. Eventually, Jo had worn her down and as a compromise, Jo had taken Western lessons with Bobby. She was good friends with the Winchesters, and had even, to everyone's amusement, dated Dean for a few weeks in middle school.

"I'm glad the Harvelles are with us, they're good aislemates," Bobby mused. "Hatfield Acres has been looking good lately, but the Lloyds lost that new horse of theirs to some bad colic and the Wrights' best rider went off to college. And, wait, Paradise Farms? Aren't they that eventing stable run by…what's his name…that weird Olympian guy…never mind. I wonder why they got put in the Western barn though."

"They're not going to be fun aislemates," Sam smirked. "Dean's already offended two of them."

"You offended people from Paradise Farms? Jesus, Dean! They're one of the few places that use Quarter Horses as eventing horses, and they've actually got a good reputation, not to mention money! The Novaks, they own the place, are loaded. Just...apologize, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mumbled miserably. As they approached their stalls, Sam dug their progress logs out of the tack box and began discussing their plans with Bobby. Dean slouched against Impala's stall door, stroking the mare's neck. Half-listening to Bobby and Sam, he watched Jimmy's, Castiel Novak's horse's, stall out of the corner of his eye, but the two boys, Castiel and Gabriel, were gone, leaving their horses to lazily eat their hay.

...

"Why did we come to a competition at the county fair again?" Castiel asked, following Gabriel to the main food pavilion.

"Because the three-day event we were planning to go to was cancelled and Chuck thought it would be a fun change of pace and a good learning experience for us and our horses, because all opportunities to compete are worthwhile," Gabriel said, repeating nearly verbatim the email their coach, Chuck, had sent all the team's parents a few weeks ago. "Now, if you don't have any more rhetorical questions that need answering, let's go get corndogs!"

"Corndogs?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "What are those?"

"Are we seriously related?" Gabriel asked melodramatically. "What other fair foods have you been denied, you sorry creature?"

"I have never had cotton candy. Or even heard of 'deep-fried butter,' though I am quite positive that that is a good thing."

Gabriel gasped in fake (though, knowing Gabriel, it may have been real) horror. "Go grab us someplace to sit and we will begin your training." He rushed off to a nearby food vendor and winked at Castiel, before turning to consult the menu.

Castiel turned and awkwardly surveyed the food pavilion. He wasn't used to fairs or food vendors, he was accustomed to eating at restaurants with cloth napkins with his family. A large group of covered picnic tables were crowded in the middle, so he made his way over and searched aimlessly for an unoccupied one. Finally, a few girls vacated their table and he slid onto the bench. As he waited for Gabriel to return, he tried to surreptitiously people-watch, but gave up when a young man noticed and flipped him off. Gabriel returned shortly afterwards, laden with trays of greasy food – an enormous tray in each hand and a gigantic bag of kettle corn balanced on his head.

"Tuck in, little bro," Gabriel said, sliding the trays in front of Castiel. "And now, for round two."

As quickly as he'd appeared, he left again, taking the kettle corn with him. Castiel stared at the food, overwhelmed by the sheer amount in front of him. He slowly picked up a thick slab of…something…and sniffed it tentatively.

"You're supposed to eat it," a voice said from behind him. "It's good, trust me."

Castiel whipped his head around to see that asshole cowboy from the barn, hands stuffed into his back pockets. A pretty blonde girl was hanging on his arm, smiling brightly and holding a greasy bag of burgers and what looked like an entire pie.

"Castiel, right? I'm Dean, Dean Winchester. Look, I just wanted to apologize for insulting you. I didn't know you and that guy were, uh, together. Not that that's the only reason I'm apologizing, I mean. I'm not really, you know, a homophobic son of a bitch."

The girl smacked Dean lightly in the chest before offering a hand to Castiel. "God, he's such an adorable little dork when he tries to talk about feelings. I'm Jo Harvelle, by the way. I think I'm also one of your barn-mates for the next couple of weeks."

Castiel shook her hand. "It is nice to meet you, Jo. I am sure you were not trying to be offensive, Dean." He jumped suddenly, as a hand ruffled his hair. Apparently Gabriel had reappeared again and had piled even more food onto the already crowded table. Gabriel flopped onto the picnic table's bench besides Castiel. "Believe it or not, Dean-o, but this ugly schmo is my brother, and he's currently with the lovely Meg Masters, who is very much female. I think she's got a thing for the wings."

"Shut up, Gabriel," Castiel blushed, wringing his hands in his lap.

"So, are you and your lovely girlfriend busy, or would you like to help us with all this food?" Gabriel asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Actually, we're meeting up with Sam and our trainer, but thanks," Dean said, looking at Jo, who was doubled over laughing. He turned to look at her. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Me…and you…dating," Jo cackled. "It'd be like making out with a brother."

"We did date, you freak," Dean said, glancing at his watch. "Son of a bitch, Bobby will kill us if we don't get going. Let's go."

Jo waved and allowed herself to be dragged off by Dean, leaving Gabriel and Castiel to finish their fair food feast.

"Why would you imply I was interested in Meg?" Castiel hissed. "She broke up with me, remember?"

"How could I forget that emotional mess, Cassy? You don't handle heartbreak well. Anyways, if your brother's going to snag you a cowboy, because lord knows you couldn't do it yourself, we need to make you look desirable."

"Firstly, I am not in need of a cowboy, especially not one who dates girls like Jo, and secondly, do you find it wise to spread rumors about Meg, when we will be spending two weeks with her in a very small hotel? Thirdly, I would appreciate it if you would only refer to me by my given name."

"Save Jah-immy, ride a cowboy," Gabriel sang off-key, before starting to shovel food into his mouth. As Castiel continued to glare at him, he swallowed and gestured at the pile with some sort of fried-food-on-a-stick. "Eat up, Cassy."

ooooo

"It was only a week," Jo whined, as they walked to the grassy area where they were meeting Bobby. "In middle school, like that even counts."

"It was three weeks," Dean countered. "Which for middle school is more like three years."

"Aww, you remembered, you old softy," Jo smiled. "So which of those guys was the one you insulted?"

"Castiel."

"The blue eyed one? Well, he's certainly a cutie. He seemed to take the apology well, so you've still got a chance!"

"I'm not gay," Dean muttered. "Do you not remember the Busty Asian Beauties incident?"

"Oh god, my poor eyes," Jo moaned. "I was trying to block that memory. Anyways, I think even you, Macho Man, could go gay for someone like that. Keep playing nice and I'm sure you'll be best pals sooner or later."

"We're only here a few weeks, remember, and I don't think I'll have the time to flirt."

"Not with that attitude, you won't. Besides, anything can happen in a few weeks. C'mon, where's the flirty Dean we all know and love?"

"Not in front of the parents." Dean winked at her.

They approached Sam and Bobby, who had set up folding chairs on some patchy brown grass. Becky Rosen, Bobby's right-hand woman, was playing with Sam's long hair. The woman had somehow managed to get Bobby to hire her fulltime straight after graduating high school. She had worked in the stables doing various chores throughout high school, and loved following Sam around. To everyone's surprise, she had turned out to be an excellent assistant for Bobby, with endless enthusiasm and great attention to detail. Becky often travelled with them, wearing her "Official Buckle Bunny" t-shirt only somewhat ironically.

"Nice to see you, Jo," Bobby said gruffly, gesturing to an available chair. "Are you here with your mother? I thought you said you weren't competing?"

"I'm not. I'm showing a couple of the youngsters in some in hand classes, mostly to show them off to prospective buyers. One of the broodmares is having some pretty serious medical issues lately, so Mom stayed to keep an eye on her. So, just me."

"I, uh, should probably call Ellen to check up on her then. Send my regards, you know." Bobby pulled himself back into his wheelchair and went off to make the call. When he was out of earshot, Jo, Dean and Sam cracked up.

"Do you ever think he'll realize how bad he's got it for her?" Sam said between laughs.

"And he calls us softies," Dean added.

"How much do you want to bet my mother's going to have to make the first move?" Jo laughed. "I swear, you guys are all 'chick-flick-moment-ier" and wussier than you seem to think you are."

"Chick-flick-moment-ier?" Dean snorted.

"Hey, you say it all the time," Sam said.

"Whatever, Sammy," Dean said. "Now, Jo, where's that pie?"


	3. Chapter 3: Loose Horse

A/N: Just wanted to let you know I appreciate y'all reading this!

0:)

Castiel could hear the noise emanating from the barn from across the parking lot. As he approached the barn, he winced at the loudness. He entered the barn, and went over to Jimmy's stall. He slipped into the stall, startling the horse, who had been busy with his hay.

"Hey, it is only me, Jimmy," Castiel said calmly. "Calm down. I need to fix the plaits in your mane."

The horse pricked his ears forward and rubbed his head against Castiel's shoulder. He focused his attention on sniffing Castiel's pockets for treats. The boy went to his tack box and grabbed his plaiting kit, a small bag with gel, needles, thread, and rubber bands. He began to loosen the horse's crooked plaits, trying to ignore the awful music from down the aisle. Jimmy snorted quietly, and let his ears and bottom lip droop in relaxation. Just as Castiel was starting to forget about the music, the song suddenly ended with a loud crashing noise. Startled, Castiel lost grip of the plaiting supplies and the bag flew out of his hand only to smack Jimmy in the face. The horse surged forward in a blind panic, knocking Castiel aside easily. Castiel landed gracelessly in the sawdust, and smacked his head against the stall wall.

"Jimmy, whoa boy," Castiel said, trying to keep his voice level. He tried to get to his feet, but tripped in the loose bedding.

Seizing the opportunity, Jimmy pushed his way through the half-open stall door and cantered down the barn aisle, tail swishing in irritation. Castiel could hear his teammates cry out in surprise, and he could hear a few try to catch Jimmy, calling the horse's name and yelling at him to halt. The boy heaved himself to his feet and rushed out of the stall, rubbing his throbbing head.

"Loose horse!" he called down the aisle, remembering barn etiquette. Not that anyone was probably unaware of the runaway horse by then. Spotting Meg at the end of the barn, he yelled, "Meg, grab Jimmy!"

The girl made a grab for the horse's halter as he approached, but he dodged around her and quickened his pace. Castiel raced off after his horse, noting that the music was coming from a small boombox outside of that Winchester guy's stall.

"Hey, out of the way," a voice called from behind him.

Castiel jumped backwards, barely avoiding being trampled by a large black horse. He looked up to see Dean Winchester, who appeared to be riding bareback…and with not even a halter let alone a bridle? The horse was completely without tack, but somehow the cowboy was able to stay on as the mare galloped down the aisle, dodging stunned riders left and right. Dean was carrying some rope, a lariat or lasso or whatever cowboys called them.

"What are you doing?" Castiel yelled, running after them.

A few of his teammates were already out in the parking lot chasing down his horse, but most people in the barn were standing there, looking shocked to see another horse run by. Castiel raced past them, making it to the far end of the parking lot only to see Jimmy prancing nervously as Dean guided his horse around him, as if he were cutting cattle. He could only watch, and couldn't help but feel impressed, watching the mare dart around Jimmy, keeping him in one place. His poor horse wasn't used to this sort of treatment, however, and by the frenzied rolling of his eyes, looked like he was about to make another break for it.

"Aw shit!" Dean cried, as Jimmy tore off in the opposite direction, skittering and sending loose gravel flying. Dean kicked his mare up to a steady lope and sent his rope flying. It landed perfectly around Jimmy's neck, and Dean quickly pulled the horse back, tightening the rope around his neck. Castiel stood there, not quite sure what to do. He could only stare as Dean walked his horse over to where he was standing, tugging Jimmy along patiently but firmly. The horse swished his tail and gave Dean a stern look with his wall eyes, but otherwise followed obediently.

"What the hell was that?" Castiel spat, grabbing the rope away from Dean. "Was that your music?"

"Sorry about that," Dean said. "I've never met a horse afraid of Led Zeppelin before."

"Led what? Never mind. Just-" Castiel didn't finish his thought before storming back to the barn.

Dean followed, Impala as calm as ever, not saying anything until they were all back inside the barn. "Hey, you could say thanks, you know. I did catch your horse for you, since you weren't doing a damn thing."

"I would not have needed to fetch him if you had not been listening to that cacophonous drivel! Leave me alone so I can make sure Jimmy's legs are alright." Castiel tied Jimmy up in his stall and rubbed his hands along the horse's legs, checking for any sign of heat, swelling, or cuts. The horse seemed fine, although a little wound up. Double-checking the rope he had tied up Jimmy with, he went to grab some water and sponges to wipe off some of the horse's nervous sweat.

"That horse can move though," Dean said thoughtfully, looking over the stall door when Castiel returned. "Has he had any barrel racing training or something?"

Castiel glanced up and shot the cowboy a withering glare. "Why would you think this would be a good time for small talk?"

"Hey, man, I'm sorry, okay?" Dean said, sobered. "Need any help?"

"I think you've done enough," Castiel said, turning back to his work. "Though turning off that…noise… would be great."

"Did you just call 'Kashmir' noise?"

"Someone's got good taste in music," a familiar voice called from the aisle. "Hey, Cassie, what's this I hear about Jimmy's prison break?"

"Dean there was blaring his music and it startled Jimmy. He pushed past me and took off down the aisle."

"Well, he looks fine. Smell-wise is a different story though. Kind of hot for a manic gallop."

"Hey, the horses were fine with the music before you went in there," Dean interjected. "Maybe it spooked you an-"

"Shut up," Castiel gritted his teeth.

"Aw, Cassie, your lovely cowboy friend saved your baby, and this is how you repay him? Aren't you supposed to give him a peck on the cheek and say 'My hero!'?" Gabriel smirked.

"Get out of Jimmy's stall," Castiel barked, grabbing up his supplies and untying his horse. He pulled the door shut, tossed his supplies in his trunk, and locked it, before marching off, without once turning back.

"He knows it's not your fault, Dean-o," Gabriel said. "He's just overprotective of his little baby in there. I play music much louder over at our place. I'll go help Mr. Princess un-bunch his panties. You might want to take care of your horse."

As if on cue, Impala nudged Gabriel, leaving a small trail of gooey horse saliva on his shoulder.

"Lovely," Gabriel muttered, trying unsuccessfully to wipe off the goo. Turning back to Dean, he added, "Please don't think we're all snotty rich kids, Dean. My little bro actually meant to say 'Oh my, that was so daring and brave, put a baby in me!' Anyways, ta ta for now."

Still a little unsure of what had just happened, Dean led Impala back to her stall and gave her a good grooming. He wasn't sure what to make of Castiel, since, while his irritation at Dean seemed unwarranted, he could understand his feelings of protectiveness for his horse. Gabriel seemed like a decent guy, though his sense of humor was a bit weird. He turned down the music a little bit, though no one else in the barn seemed to mind much. He was humming along to 'Fool in the Rain' when Sam knocked on the stall door's frame.

"Quite the dramatic afternoon," Sam said matter-of-factly. "Trying to show off for the ladies?"

"I just didn't want to piss of our stablemates anymore than I already have," Dean said, clearing his throat. "I mean, that Gabriel kid seems like the prankster kind if we don't watch ourselves."

"You're the only one who seems to be getting into trouble," Sam said, smirking. "Do you need any help? I need to get back to the motel so I can work on college applications."

"Aren't those not due until December? Are they even online yet?" Dean groaned, trying to hide his annoyance. He didn't want to think about Sam leaving just yet, though he was proud of him. He just wished they could have a nice summer show season and ignore school stuff for a while.

"I've been working on practice essays. My English teacher from last year said he'd look over them for me."

"Practice essays?! Don't you need just one good one?"

"Dean, if I want to get a scholarship to Stanf-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Sammy," Dean sighed. "Go get some hay for these guys and I'll finish up in here."

Ooooooo

"Why hello, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome," Gabriel said, as Sam passed his stall. "Or should I say, Mr. Very Tall, Dark, and Handsome."

"Oh, uh, Gabriel Novak, right?" Sam said, turning to the short, golden-eyed guy.

"Right. And what's your name?"

"Sam. Sam Winchester."

"Are you a trouble-maker like that brother of yours?"

"Uh, not really," Sam said nervously, as the older boy approached him.

"That's alright, I can make enough trouble for the both of us. Where are you off to?"

"I'm just getting hay for the horses."

"My brother's ignoring his phone, so I guess I'll just go with you then."

"Um, alright?" Sam said, running a hand through his hair. "Follow me then."

"Lead on, Moose-boy."

"Moose-boy?" Sam stopped, and looking at Gabriel quizzically.

"Figure of speech."

"Wha-? Never mind." Sam continued walking towards the hay barn.

"We need to plot, Dean's brother. Now that Meg and my brother aren't providing any drama to entertain me, I think I'll need your help to make some."

"And what if I say no?"

"Live a little, Sammy. And do you really think you want to be on my bad side?"

Sam looked Gabriel up and down, before catching the mischievous twinkle in his golden eyes. What was with him and this guy's eyes? "Probably not. Now grab that wheelbarrow and do something useful."

"So you can check out my ass? Okay."

"Are you always like this?"

"What, you don't find me absolutely charming?"

"That's one way to put it."

"You'll love it, sooner or later. Now, do you have a pitchfork?"

"Yeah, let me go grab one."

"My hero!"


	4. Chapter 4: Lots and Lots of Salad

A/N: Thanks for reading, reviewing, following and all that stuff! I really appreciate it. I've been reading a lot of Supernatural fanfiction lately, and it's all so angsty, so I'm trying to keep this lighthearted.

OooO

Bobby made his way into the motel, toting take-out bags, since the boys had been too tired to go out for dinner. He wheeled himself to the door of the room the boys were staying in, and knocked. No one answered until his seventh knock, when Dean cracked open the door to let him inside.

"What were you idjits doing that prevented you from coming to the damn door?" Bobby scolded, setting the bags down on the small table where Sam was sitting.

"Sam's been working on practice college essays all evening," Dean said, muting the television with one hand and rummaging through the food with the other.

"And that stops you how?"

"He was watching Dr. Sexy reruns, and only got up when it went to commercials," Sam said, without looking up from his laptop.

"I wasn-" Dean began. "Okay, I was, but I haven't seen this one yet."

"Didn't you get all the seasons last Christmas?" Sam said, pushing his laptop lid shut.

"Yeah, but this is from last season."

"Will you two shut up with your Dr Sexy crap and come eat?" Bobby said, already eating his food.

"Is this…rabbit food?" Dean said, opening the box Bobby handed him. "Bobby, I'm an athlete, a cowboy, I need red meat!"

"It's healthy, and it's good for you," Sam said, grabbing his box. "Ooh, this looks good. Thanks, Bobby."

"It'll build character," Bobby said, teasingly. "Now eat up, princess."

The three ate in companionable silence; or rather, Bobby and Sam did, trying to ignore Dean's anguished protests as he mentioned that no one can eat salads without croutons or lots of salad dressing to hide the taste.

There was a knock at the door, so Dean took the opportunity to escape his fancy salad and went to answer it. Becky smiled when he opened the door and brushed past him, bouncing over to the bed Sam was sitting on. She plopped down besides him, ran her hand through his hair, and then opened her bag to reveal a still warm pie.

"Bobby said to pick up an incentive for you," she explained. "He didn't say what for, but I assume this will do the trick."

"Thanks, Becky," Bobby said, offering her the last salad. "Now eat your salad, boy, before the pie gets cold."

Ooooo

Castiel and Gabriel were in their hotel's restaurant, a well-decorated ultra-modern establishment that served bizarrely ordinary food and seemed out of place when compared to the fair. The rest of their team had come back to the hotel a few hours earlier, but Gabriel had dragged Castiel around the fair to introduce him to all the sights. Castiel, who was still feeling a bit nauseous from all the fair food Gabriel had forced him to eat (and all those rollercoasters probably hadn't helped much), was picking at a tiny side salad, but Gabriel was cramming some sort of chocolaty concoction in his mouth.

"You are going to get diabetes at this rate," Castiel reprimanded his brother. "If you do not choke to death first."

"No wonder Meg dumped you, Debbie Downer," Gabriel whined. Castiel grimaced at the remark and focused his attention back on his salad. "Too early? I apologize."

"No, it is alright. We are now on amicable terms. I just do not need another reminder of how incapable I am at socialization."

"Oh, c'mon, Cassy. You're not so bad."

"There is no need to placate me. I am aware of my faults. You just reminded me of how obnoxious I was this afternoon, to the Winchester boy. He was only trying to help me, and he did catch Jimmy." Castiel wrote down their room number on the receipt a server had handed him as he spoke. When he finished, the two boys made their way through the brightly lit lobby and into an elevator.

"That was something, wasn't it? If his brother wasn't so intriguingly tall, I might make him my event crush."

"You do not need to find a new crush for every competition you go to, Gabriel." Castiel tried to ignore Gabriel, who was dancing to the elevator music, a bizarre harp rendition of some classic rock song.

"Wrong-o. Gives my brain something to focus on besides the show. Well, and besides pranking everyone. Coach Chuck seems to think that I should show better sportsmanship to my fellow competitors."

"He is correct, as always." Castiel fumbled in his pocket for the room key, and let himself in.

"Well, just apologize to the guy. He's attractive, but not intimidatingly so."

"Unlike you, I do not have competition crushes."

"Oh, lighten up, Cassy. What's the harm in a little flirting? You could practice, and probably never see him again."

"I am not homosexual, so it would hardly be worthwhile practice. Have you already forgotten Meg?"

"That didn't count and you know it. That's why you two are on such good terms now. Remember last time we ran into Kali…? Besides I've seen how you look at Dr. Sexy."

"I thought everyone looked at Dr. Sexy that way," Castiel said, giving up. Sometimes it was easier to just ignore whatever Gabriel said until he got distracted and dropped the subject.

"Did, did you just almost tell a joke?" Gabriel cried, fake-swooning dramatically and falling onto his bed. "Cassy-bot malfunction! You can do it. Just one joke, for me."

"I'm sorry, Gabe. I'm afraid I can't do that," Castiel said in the flattest, most monotone voice he could muster.

"A sci-fi movie pop culture reference? Be still, my beating heart!" Gabriel cackled.

"Watch your mouth, kid, or you'll find yourself floating home."

"Two of them? I knew you were a closet nerd."

"I think in this case the correct term is geek," Castiel said, brow furrowed.

"And, he's back. Alright, I think there's a Dr. Sexy marathon on. Sound good?"

"Affirmative, capt-" Castiel started to say before a fluffy pillow smacked him in the face.

"Do not interrupt Dr. Sexy with your geeky Star Trek reference! What would the good doctor say?"

"I thought geeks were sexy now? And isn't the Doctor a character on a sci-fi show?" Castiel tried to hide his smile. He was starting to see why Gabriel enjoyed being such a smart-ass.

oooo


	5. Chapter 5: Talkin' After Midnight

A/N: Thanks guys for still reading. I appreciate the feedback (And, yes, I realize that Dr. Sexy M.D. is a parody of Grey's Anatomy, but I know nearly nothing about the show. Trigger warning for assisted suicide in the first paragraph, but nothing graphic- just to be safe)

ooo

The Dr. Sexy marathon ended at about ten o'clock that night. It had ended with a particularly dramatic episode, the most recent season finale, where Dr. Sexy's patient, diagnosed with both a rare blood disorder and a most-likely fatal form of cancer begged him to sleep with her, so she wouldn't die a virgin. After the act, when talking with his oncologist friend, Dr. Sexy realized the cancer was most likely exacerbated by the blood condition, and once the right pills had been ordered to cure the blood condition, would probably be very manageable. In a dramatic slow-motion scene set to a bluesy song, Dr. Sexy ran down the halls in his cowboy boots, only to find the patient dead, her thought-dead stepbrother holding a syringe in his hand. Dr. Sexy and his team tried to revive her, but the stepbrother is a doctor at the hospital, and has injected her with a quick-acting, lethal dose of a certain drug. The episode ends with Dr. Sexy texting his on-and-off-again love interest in a seedy bar. Anyways, Gabriel was trying to avoid crying by making snarky comments and Castiel was half asleep, having gotten lost early in the episode when the step-brother twist was revealed ("The actors that played them as children in the flashback are close in age, but now their actors are at least ten years apart in age," Castiel had said, bemused. "Shut up, we're missing it," Gabriel had hissed, eyes glued to the screen.)

"Alright, I need to take care of some male things," Gabriel said as the credits began to play. "You need to leave the room for an hour or so."

"What sort of thing?" Castiel asked, head tilted slightly.

"Go grab _Casa Erotica _from my bag, will you?" Gabriel smirked.

"O-ohhh," Castiel said, eyes widening in realization. "Where would you suggest I go at ten at night?"

"I don't know, the hotel lobby? A bar?"

"Am I being…sexiled?" Castiel asked with a sigh.

"Yes. But don't think your use of the word sexiled was not appreciated, little bro."

"Fine, let me just get some things together," Castiel groaned.

Gabriel put the DVD in and began to hum along with the opening song.

"Gabriel! Give me a minute, please!"

"Nothing sexy will happen for a minute or two. Well, except that. No hurry."

Castiel flung his partially charged cell phone into his bag along with some extra cash and a book, before rushing out the door in a hurry. Only after the door had clicked shut did he realize he had forgotten his hotel card. He took the elevator down to the lobby, which was crowded and full of loud, tipsy fair-goers. He wandered around the hotel for a while, trying to find somewhere quiet to sit where he could enjoy his book, but the only acceptably quiet hiding places were occupied with teenagers making out. After awkwardly peeking around a corner to see Meg and…well, someone who Castiel never imagined Meg would go for, he decided to leave the hotel and find somewhere else to go.

The night air was still warm and humid, but a cool breeze kept it tolerable. As he walked down the strip of road that was mainly flanked by mediocre restaurants, hotels, and motels, he tried to find someplace open that wasn't a bar. Unsuccessful at this, he walked for about twenty minutes, until he'd reached a small park. It wasn't anything special – a tiny lot lodged between two cheap motels with brown grass, a cracked concrete basketball court and a handful of plastic picnic tables – but it was blissfully silent, save for the chirps of few crickets. Castiel tried to make himself comfortable at one of the tables, and failing this, sat in the coarse grass and began to read the book he'd brought along. It was engaging, so much that his usual alertness diminished and he was soon absorbed in the book's pages. So much so that he didn't notice a lone figure approach. Not only until the stranger cleared his throat did Castiel look up reluctantly.

"Hey," Dean Winchester said, hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets. "I was just coming out here to read- couldn't sleep, you know- and I saw you over here. Uh, anyways, I wanted to apologize if I've offended you. I understand being protective of horses, hell, Sam could probably tell you a story or two involving Impala- and, yeah."

"No, I really appreciate what you did today. I know I demonstrated my appreciation…quite poorly and I apologize for my inappropriate behavior. You have no reason to apologize."

"Yeah, I know, but Samantha told me to," Dean joked. However, his smile faded when he noticed the other boy's frown.

"That is true."

"Hey, man, it was a joke."

"No, no you're right," Castiel said, starting to smile. "So, what are you reading?"

"_Slaughterhouse Five_. Probably one of my favorite books - Sam claims it's the only thing I ever read."

"That is an excellent book, and Vonnegut is an interesting author. I must say, his short stories rarely match the quality of his novels."

"Yeah, I'd have to agree with you there," Dean nodded. "How about you?"

"Excuse me?"

"What's got you so engrossed?"

"It's a collection by P.G. Wodehouse. My brother, Gabriel, always tells me I need to work on my sense of humor."

"P.G. Wodehouse, huh? Is it any good?"

"I would definitely recommend it. Won't you sit down?"

Dean looked startled, as if either he hadn't remembered he was looming above the seated Castiel or he was surprised by the invitation. He plopped down besides Castiel.

"So, can we… be friends or something? Or at least, not enemies? I don't want you to think I'm a total douche." Dean refused to make eye contact, embarrassed by his awkward wording.

"'There is no surer foundation for a beautiful friendship than a mutual taste in literature.'"

"Did you come up with that?" Dean asked, impressed.

"Wodehouse did, unfortunately," Castiel smiled.

"Oh, so he's some fancy literature guy then? Much as I like to read, I've never gotten the appeal."

"Trust me, his writing is not as intense as you may presume. Listen, 'She looked as if she had been poured into her clothes and had forgotten to say "when."'"

Dean laughed loudly. "Okay, that was good. Like an old-timey your mama joke."

"'Everything in life that's any fun, as somebody wisely observed, is either immoral, illegal or fattening'" Castiel quoted.

oooo

The two boys stayed there for well over an hour, discussing books, Dr. Sexy, and movies (which led to a long tangent about Star Wars).

"I really enjoyed our conversation, Dean," Castiel said finally, getting to his feet. He had been sitting awkwardly and his legs felt like they were being poked by a thousand pins and needles. "But I should get back. It is getting late and I have to be at the barn early to feed the horses. Besides, Gabriel should be finished by now."

"With what?"

"He needed to take care of some…private things."

"Oh man," Dean chortled. "Did you get sexiled or something?"

"Something like that."

"Ok, so where are you staying?" Dean asked, still smirking.

Castiel mentioned the name of the hotel.

"That's on my way," Dean said. "C'mon, let's go together. I still don't understand how you could possibly think Jar Jar Binks _isn't_ that obnoxious."

They walked through the dark night, discussing the merits and problems of the Star Wars prequels. Dean was shocked Castiel has seen them before the originals and was more than happy to tell him so. Finally, they arrived at Castiel's hotel.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, Cas?" Dean asked. "Bright and early?"

"Cas?"

"Sorry, not a fan of nicknames?" Dean said, looking a little flustered.

"No, I like 'Cas' but I have never been called that before."

"Alright, well, 'night, Cas," Dean said, turning and walking away. He turned back once to watch Cas enter the hotel, and couldn't help the dorky smile that took over his face.

"Aw geez, Dean, don't let Samantha rub off on you," Dean muttered to himself, before walking back to his motel, which was right besides the park.

Oooo

Gabriel was apparently asleep and not responding to the door when Castiel arrived back at their room, so Cas had an employee come open the door for him. He readied for bed, trying to stop smiling like a giddy teenage girl, but was ultimately failing.

"So where have you been?" Gabriel asked blearily, as a loud crash from the bathroom woke him. "And are you making to much racket because you want to talk about it, or because you're a klutz?"

"Out, and because I am a klutz," Castiel called from the bathroom. He turned out the light and got into bed. "I hope you enjoyed your alone time."

"Why, yes, yes I did," Gabriel said. "So, what were you doing?"

"Reading."

"I see. Must be a hell of a book to get you smiling like that."

"It's a very humorous work."

"Good, whatever. Goodnight."


	6. Chapter 6: Bad Day

A/N: A bit of a filler chapter, but bear with me please (:

ooo

For the first time in what was probably forever, Gabriel woke up before Castiel. Realizing this, Gabriel also decided that that meant Castiel had probably done something last night that wasn't reading, something un-Castiel-like, like having fun. With a smirk, he began to poke and prod Castiel, until he finally woke up as well.

"So, are you ever going to tell me what you did last night?" Gabriel asked, lying on his stomach across Castiel's bed and kicking his legs back and forth. "Was it kinky?"

"Gabriel…" Castiel warned groggily. "It was truly nothing of import and most certainly not kinky."

"Then why are you still in bed at ten in the morning?" Gabriel silently counted down to 1, and on cue, Castiel shot upright in bed.

"We must hurry. Chuck will not be pleased to find that we have yet to feed our horses. Get off my bed."

"Oh, chill. I got Meg to do it. Told her to tell Chuck you weren't feeling so hot and I had to wait for you because we only brought the one car."

"But that would be lying."

"Yeah, well, you've already lied to me this morning, so you seem to be on a roll."

"I never l-"

"Lied by omission, Cassy."

"I did not do anything interesting by your standards. I simply walked to a park, read for a while until I was interrupted by Dean Winchester, who I then talked to for an hour or so before returning to the hotel. The most interesting thing I did was get the hotel to unlock the door for me, since you seemed incapable of doing so."

"Oooo, and by talked to, you meant had an intense argument with about your comical misunderstandings with, and then had an even more intense make-out session?"

"No, I do not mean that."

"So you just talked about feelings and other girly things like that? Your life is slowly becoming a rom-com, I hope you realize."

"We did not talk about girly things. We talked about Vonnegut and Star Wars."

"Hmm, not quite as sexy or emotionally appealing to the ladies, but I'm sure there's a market for high school/college-age fangeek falling in love with a tough, bad boy."

Castiel finally realized it would be best not to encourage his brother, and, sighing, he went to the bathroom to get changed. He turned on the hair-dryer to try and drown out Gabriel's ramblings, but had to turn it off when Gabriel only talked louder. It was ten o'clock, but Castiel would really prefer not getting kicked out of the hotel for something so minor.

They got ready quickly, and drove over to a small breakfast place where they ordered and ate in silence. Or rather, Castiel ate in silence while his brother continued to make somewhat inappropriate comments about Castiel's innocent late-night conversation. When they pulled into the barn's parking lot, Castiel finally snapped and turned to his brother.

"When we are in there, you will cease this inanity, all right?" Castiel instructed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Understood, but before we go in…" Gabriel then launched into a particularly lurid description of how Castiel and Dean's 'first date' _should_ have gone. Blushing furiously, Castiel jumped out of the car and stormed off to the barn, desperate to see Jimmy, the seemingly only sane part of his life.

The barn greeted him with its comforting smell of hay and horses, and Castiel could feel himself relax slightly. He walked down the aisle to Jimmy's stall and greeted his horse warmly. Entering the stall with his grooming kit, he noticed in surprise that the horse had yet to finish his food. It was nearing lunchtime for the horses, and his food should have been long finished. Castiel exited the stall and searched the barn for Meg, but was unable to find her. He instead located her friend Anna.

"Anna, do you know where Meg is?" he asked, peeking into her horse's stall.

"Uh, no idea. Why?" she replied, tucking some loose hair behind her ear. "What do you need?"

"She fed Jimmy today, but I need to know when."

"Oh, she got delayed, so she asked me to do it. I didn't hear until later, so he didn't get fed until about nine."

"Alright, thank you," Castiel said. Jimmy usually wolfed down his food in record speed, but if he had indeed been fed later than usual, it probably wasn't that weird that there was so hay left. Maybe the novel environment was affecting him somehow, he mused, walking down the aisle in a daze. He almost collided with another rider from his team, he was so lost in thought, but he made it back to Jimmy's stall without incident. Castiel tied Jimmy in the cross-ties in the stall, and began brushing the horse's coat, mind changing gears to think about his night. It had been nice, he thought, spending time with someone who didn't instantly find Castiel hopelessly weird. As his mother had used to tell him, he could be a bit of an "acquired taste," and he appreciated that someone as normal and cool as Dean could find him worth talking to, especially after their bizarre first impressions. He was knocked from his thoughts, however, as he brushed a little too hard over Jimmy's sensitive flank. The horse pinned his ears and squealed in annoyance.

"Sorry, boy," Castiel mumbled, feeling ashamed of himself. He couldn't let himself get attached to Dean. He hardly knew him, and he was already affecting his concentration. That's why, when he had finished tacking up Jimmy and leading him outside to a practice arena, he ignored Dean's friendly greeting and instead concentrated on mentally preparing himself for his ride.

ooo

His ride was awful. Jimmy was either unresponsive to his aids or overly sensitive, especially when Castiel drew his leg back slightly to urge him into a faster pace. Normally, Castiel used a crop with Jimmy, who could be a bit sluggish until pushed, but today, the slightest brushing on the horse's flanks set him off. The horse was wheeling about the area, bucking half-heartedly but still managing to nearly unseat Castiel. Chuck, who had been watching from the ringside, was shouting orders and looked even more miserable than usual when Castiel decided to call it quits.

"Get back there and end on a positive note," Chuck ordered. "If you don't, you let him get away with crappy show behavior and you don't want to go that route." As Castiel nudged Jimmy away from the gate to continue, he swore he could hear Chuck mumble to himself: "These kids drive me to drink, I swear."

Castiel managed to get Jimmy to do a halfway decent canter around the arena. He noticed Dean watching him as the boy led his own horse to a nearby arena, and drew Jimmy to a choppy halt. As much as he wished it weren't so, he cared what the boy thought about him as a rider, and he sure wasn't going to let Dean see him ride this poorly. Morosely, he walked Jimmy out of the ring and listened to Chuck's irritated speech, before returning to the barn. The show was coming up fast and his performance would have gotten him disqualified, it had been so poor. He dismounted and led Jimmy back to his stall, head pounding with the beginning of a headache. As he untacked his horse, he could feel Gabriel's eyes on him, and even Gabriel showed some tact and left him alone. Releasing Jimmy from the ties, Castiel noticed the horse was ignoring his food and instead stared bleakly from the corner of the stall.

"I know that was not a proud performance, but you need to eat something," Castiel whispered to the horse, who completely ignored him. He felt his stomach tighten in anxiety and he promised himself he would check on the horse throughout the day. The rest of the day, he spent alternately doing his own, and Gabriel's, chores, as well as attending a team meeting held by Chuck. While everyone else prepared to go to dinner, tossing their horses hay and filling up their water buckets one last time, Castiel noted that Jimmy had hardly touched the small amount of lunch he had been offered, and it seemed there was still some of his breakfast left too. He pulled a folding chair from his trunk and placed it inside Jimmy's stall.

"Hey, Gabriel?" he said, as his brother walked over. "Jimmy is acting a bit off, so I am going to spend some additional time with him. Would you mind keeping you phone with you and can you pick me up sometime later?"

"Sure. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, I am sure it is nothing."

"Alrighty then. I'll try to save a burger for you, but no promises." Gabriel flashed him a cheeky smile and headed out, leaving Castiel alone in the aisle. Everyone they shared this section of the barn with seemed to have already left for the evening, so Castiel sat with his horse quietly, hoping Jimmy would start to eat soon. Instead, the horse began to nip at his sides, and Castiel's stomach tightened with dread.


	7. Chapter 7 (Part 1): A Bad Day Gets Worse

A/N: Thanks for reading - Cliffhanger, yay!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bobby Singer and the Winchester boys were sitting outside on the prickly, dry summer grass, having just finished some food Becky had picked up for them. The day was cooling slowly and instead of sticky heat, the temperature was almost bearable. Becky was playing with Sam's hair, as usual, and Bobby had just finished reviewing the boys' progress, and seemed as pleased as it was possible for him to be.

"Good work, boys," he said gruffly, taking off his cap to swipe a hand through his sweaty hair. "Damn, it's hot out. Becky, leave Sam's hair alone or I'll take the clippers to it. Now you two idjits get out of here, I need to talk to Dean."

Dean wasn't sure if Becky or Sam looked more horrified by Bobby's threat and stifled a chuckle as they both clambered to their feet and ran off to find some evening fair activity to enjoy. Dean reckoned Sam would probably go watch some 4H presentation; the nerd always enjoyed learning things, no matter how esoteric or unrelated to the family business. He remembered catching Sam talking to a little girl about rabbit nutrition in the small animal barn once. As predicted, Sam veered off towards a livestock barn, Becky tagging along, trotting to keep up with Sam's long strides.

"Dean," Bobby said, clearing his throat. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable. "I figured you're the one who needs to hear this, since you're older and more invested in this whole business problem. Sam, well, I'm not sure how long he's planning on sticking with us."

"But Bobby…"

"Look, Dean, I don't like it either, but Sam's got some brains under all that hair, and I don't think saving your dad's business matters as much to him. My bet is that college is going to be something he'll start looking into soon, and I wouldn't be surprised if vet school is in his future. Anyways, let's be straight about this. The business is hurting. No one wants to turn their horses over to an ex-farm manager. They want a Winchester. I've tried to keep you boys' workload as light as possible, since Sam's still in school and you're still adjusting and all, but we can't afford a poor performance. You need to make it to a National competition, and win it. It's a shitty economy for Western horses right now, you know that."

"I know, Bobby, how important this is. I get it. Maybe we don't have any big breeders showing right now, but we have those prospects going nicely, and Impala and Dodge will show people Sammy and I- or at least just me- are decent trainers. Just…just don't tell Sam how bad it's getting, okay? Things will pick up at the end of the summer, I know it."

"Yeah, I hope so. You're a good kid, Dean, and I wish I didn't have to put all this pressure on you. I can get a few training clients to get us through the off-season, if we need to, but our best bets are with the prospects and breeding stock. I don't think we can afford to sell any."

Dean imagined bitterly what would happen if the prospects and breeding stock were sold off – they'd be living client to client, paycheck to paycheck, and it'd be hard to keep a good reputation without side projects, new foals, and horse sales. Few clients would be interested in a purely training stable if they didn't have the impressive clientele or stock to show off, and it would be hard to get the clientele or stock without some big change, now that John Winchester was out of the picture. He tugged at his collar, and clenched his jaw, but tried to level his expression.

"I understand, Bobby."

"Thanks, son. Now, go enjoy yourself a bit. You're coming along well and should be good by showtime."

Bobby wheeled himself off to another barn, where some of the horses they had brought along only to get them used to the environment, rather than presenting them or anything, were located. Dean sighed and cut back to the barn. He doubted anything would be able to distract him in the mean time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dean entered the barn and let the soothing smell of hay and horses overwhelm him. He rubbed a hand through his hair and hurried along to Impala's stall, before flinging the door open and himself around the horse's neck. Hugging his horse always made him feel better, made him feel close to his father again, a tough man, sure, but a man who had taught Dean so much about horseback riding, the most important thing in the world to him besides his family. She also reminded him of his mother, who had raised the mare from a weak and scrawny foal to the beautiful creature there today. Dean could still remember her taking Dean to the barn with her, her hand holding his much smaller one tight as they made their way down the aisle. They would greet each horse in turn, but stopped only at Impala's. They would spend an hour just grooming the patient mare, Dean standing on a small stool and carefully running a brush far too large for his hand over her dark body.

Dean patted the mare, who snorted at him, forgiving him for so rudely interrupting her dinner. He grabbed a brush and began to groom her, though her coat was still shining from earlier. He spent extra time, lost in thought, on her brand – the Winchester brand, a rocking W in a sort of star-like sun. Losing track of time, Dean stayed with the mare for a while, so long that she dozed off under his care. Finally, he composed himself, scolding himself for the chick-flick moment. Thinking he was alone, he went to turn on his portable cd player, hoping some Zeppelin would toughen him up a bit. He grabbed his small CD holder, flipping through the selection. House of the Holy? Led Zeppelin IV?

A noise startled him from his thoughts and he whipped his head around to see that Castiel guy come out of his horse's stall. He had his cell phone out, glued to his ear, looking like he waiting for someone to pick up.

"Anna? Oh…" The boy had apparently gone through to voicemail. "This is Castiel. I think you fed Jimmy earlier, and I was wondering if you fed him the wrong feed. Can you call me back when you get this? Thank you."

The boy sighed, thrusting his hands into his pockets and turning back into the stall. Dean approached cautiously, curiosity piqued. He glanced into the stall, only to see a very miserable Cas, and an even more miserable-looking Jimmy. The poor horse's eyes looked glazed over and he groaned. His hair was rumpled, looking like he had been biting at his flanks, his legs looked wobbly, and he was coated in sawdust from rolling.

The horse's legs slowly buckled and he laid down on his side, clearly about to roll. Castiel clipped a lead rope to the horse's halter and yanked firmly, trying to get the horse to stand up again.

"Jimmy, please," Castiel said urgently. "You need to get up." The wiry boy, whose hair was sticking up oddly and peppered with dust and bits of sawdust, tugged even harder at the rope, but the horse ignored him.

"Here, let me help," Dean said, striding purposefully into the stall. Castiel was either too tired or shocked to stop him, easily relinquishing control of the rope to Dean, who began to swat Jimmy's hindquarter with the end of the rope. The horse pinned his ears and groaned again, but Dean was a powerful and persistent guy, and with a little bit of sweat, he managed to get the horse upright.

"Okay, he's colicing, you see that right?" Dean said, trying not to sound too judgmental. Cas only nodded mutely. "Have you called the vet yet?"

"No, he only just started with the rolling. I though- I was hoping…" Castiel trailed off, and Dean couldn't help but feel for the guy. It was hard to make the right decisions about your horse and it was damn scary to see them suffering. He wished Sam were around, because the guy had an encyclopedic knowledge of animal husbandry. "I'm going to walk him down the aisle, force him to keep moving. You're going to walk behind him, a little to the side – he doesn't kick, right? - and whack him on the rear, help me keep him forward. You're also going to call the vet. This could be a big deal or it could be an easy case, but he's got to stay upright. Got it?"

Castiel nodded again, and pulled out his phone once more, searching through his contacts for the number of the show's veterinary center. As he looked, Dean dragged the horse out of its stall and began leading it back and forth down the aisle, flicking the horse with the end of the lead rope as Jimmy tried to stop. As the phone rang, Castiel caught up and began urging Jimmy onwards as well. Finally, he was connected to the vet center.

"Hello? Yes, I am currently in Equestrian Barn A. My horse is colicing…Yes, I understand, but please tell them to hurry."

"So, they coming?" Dean said, turning around to make eye contact but still moving along down the aisle.

Castiel shook his head, breaking eye contact and staring off into space. "There is some sort of major emergency in another horse barn and all the horse vets are currently occupied at this time. Apparently, there are few horse vets in the immediate area, and they are all occupied or on vacation. They do not know how long it will take for someone to arrive." The boy's shoulders hunched over and he looked dangerously as if he might cry at any second.

"Alright, alright," Dean said, really hoping to avoid the tears. "Let me call my brother, he's a genius. He should be able to give us some help."

"Th-thank you, Dean," Cas said, gazing up to meet his eyes. Dean swallowed, unnerved by his piercing blue gaze. He wanted to comfort him, in some macho way (_maybe a shoulder squeeze – oh jesus- Dean, focus_!), but couldn't, needing to keep Jimmy, who grew more and more resistant with each step, going.

Dean whipped out his phone and speed-dialed his brother. Jimmy sensed that he was distracted and tried to use the moment to his advantage, but Dean quickly turned on the phone into speaker-phone mode and shoved it in his front shirt pocket, whipping around to push on the horse.

The moment Sam picked up, Dean began in a rush, "Listen, Sam. There's a colicing horse down in our barn, and it's pretty bad. Can you come down and help? I...I don't know what to do."

"Where are the vets?" Sam said, voice calm and collected, through the phone. Castiel thought he could hear Gabriel in the background, asking what was going on, and would have been more surprised if he weren't so distracted.

"There's some big emergency or something. I thought they'd have tons of vets swarming around, but I guess they can't get out here for a while."

"Okay, I'll be right there. I'll call Bobby on the way to tell him what's going on. Whose horse is it?"

"Castiel Novak's." Castiel heard Gabriel shout "oh Shi-!" in the background before the line went dead.

"It'll be okay," Dean said, turning off his phone. "Sam'll make it better." He couldn't help feeling weird saying that. It was always Dean who made things okay, for Sam. It was weird asking Sam for help. He snuck a look at Castiel, the smart, thoughtful boy from just a few hours ago lost. It broke his heart to see those beautiful eyes looking so sad.

(to be continued…)


	8. Chapter 7 (Part 2): A Bad Day Improves

A/N: Quick mini-update. Feedback = quicker updates.

-.-.-.-.-

Sam arrived quickly, Gabriel tagging along. The barn was basically empty, and Sam was able to find Dean and Castiel within seconds.

"Alright, put him cross-ties. Let me grab the first aid kit." Sam trotted over to his tack trunk, unlocked it, and began rummaging through it, throwing leg wraps, bottles, and other various paraphernalia he had accumulated over the years around him.

Sensing a joke would be ill-advised at the time, Gabriel kept his mouth shut and grabbed everything Sam idly tossed around and tried to keep it arranged. Several times he had to race after something that rolled down the aisle, but he made no complaint.

Finally, Sam pulled out a thick canvas bag full of various first aid supplies. He took out a stethoscope and walked over to Dean and Castiel, who had Jimmy cross-tied in the aisle, where he was standing mostly still. Sam moved his hands across the horse's body, and then put the stethoscope in his ears. He listened to the horse's gut sounds for a while, while Gabriel, Dean and Castiel watched, not even realizing they were holding their breath. After what seemed like forever, Sam straightened up and began to run his hands over the horse, looking over everything. Finally, he turned around, running a hand through his overlong hair.

"So, this doesn't look too bad," Sam said. "I have some medicine I can give him that should help, some Banamine."

Sam pulled out a tube, pushed it into Jimmy's mouth at the upper corner of his lip, and depressed the syringe. With expert skill, he got most of the pasty medicine into the horse's mouth, holding Jimmy's head still as he tried to whip it out of reach.

"We can't give this long-term, especially not without talking to a vet," Sam said. "But his symptoms don't seem to indicate a major impaction, so it'll probably go away itself."

"Thank you, Sam," Castiel said somberly, reaching out to stroke Jimmy's sweaty neck.

"I'll go see if I can wrangle up a vet," Sam said, beginning to stash his things back in his overflowing tack trunk. "Keep him on his feet, but he doesn't need to be walking. If he changes for the worse, call me, but I think he should be fine."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said gruffly, clapping him on the back. "You're going make such a good vet."

"Uh, thanks," Sam said, unsure about the compliment. "Hey, Gabriel, want to come with?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Gabriel quipped, jumping up from the tack trunk he'd been sitting on. "Lead the way, Samsquatch."

"Samsq-?" Dean began to ask, turning to look at Castiel. Castiel shrugged, but a small smile had made his way onto his face. They watched in amusement as Sam strode off purposefully and Gabriel followed, pulling some candy out of his pockets and making sardonic comments.

As the two boys left the barn, Castiel turned back to Dean. "I appreciate all your help, Dean. It's getting late, however, so feel free to leave if you need to."

"Nah, it's alright," Dean said. "If it's no problem to you, I'd like to make sure Jimmy here's going to be alright."

"I can call with any updates," Castiel offered politely, not realizing how he sounded. Dean's face fell slightly and he shoved his hands back into his pockets.

"Guess I'll get out of your hair, then," Dean said, turning to leave.

"No, no! I just didn't want to keep you unnecessarily, but I would appreciate the company, if you're willing."

"Well, there's nothing else for me to do, and Sam's sticking around anyways," Dean said, feigning nonchalance (although not even well enough to fool himself). His protective instincts had come out again, and, besides, Cas was a cool guy. He rested himself on his tack trunk, legs spread slightly, arms folded behind his head and resting against the stall door. Impala came to the door and looked out at him, snuffling into his hair. Realizing he had no treats, she huffed out a breath and turned back around.

Castiel plopped himself down on a tack trunk across the aisle and tucked his arms around his knees. He heaved out a sigh and brought his eyes up to meet Dean's. They held each other's gaze for a moment, before Dean broke the eye contact and cleared his throat. "I'm going to put on some music, alright?" Dean said, without looking up at Cas for confirmation. He got to his feet and grabbed his boom box, pressing play and returning to his seat. The opening bars to _Stairway to Heaven _began to play.

"I love this song," Castiel smiled, watching Jimmy, who seemed to be calming down once he realized the cross-ties would prevent him from moving much. His ears were even starting to droop as the medicine started to take effect.

"Led Zeppelin can do no wrong," Dean smirked, leaning back. "Hey, Jimmy's looking better."

"I appreciate everything you and Sam have done to help," Castiel repeated. "I suppose it should have been obvious his colic wasn't that serious, but..."

"It's hard to stay level-headed when it's your horse, isn't it?" Dean said. "I can't deal with anything happening to Impala. Sam says I baby her, but she deserves it."

"I know. I just hope he's going to be okay. Although competing is probably out of the question."

"I'm sorry, Cas."

"No, it's alright. Competing is exciting, of course, but I really just want whatever's best for Jimmy. It was worth coming here, if only to finally get to see what a fair is like...and well, I'm glad to have met you."


	9. Chapter 8: Cards

A/N: Thanks for giving this a read. Question: how much sad do you guys want with Jimmy?

(:0

About an hour after Sam and Gabriel had set off to find a vet, Jimmy seemed greatly improved. He looked more relaxed, ears and lip drooping slightly, and his breathing was steady and calm. In the meantime, Castiel had procured two folding chairs, with P.F. stitched neatly into their backs, and the two boys were playing cards, using a tack trunk as a table.

"You're bleeding," Dean said, not unkindly. Castiel kept getting distracted with trying to remember the rules to the card game Dean had taught him, letting his cards slip slightly so Dean could get a look at them.

Castiel put down his cards, jumped to his feet, and held up his arms, turning them to look for the blood.

"No, no," Dean laughed, tugging Castiel back down into his chair. "I mean, I can see your cards. You need to hold them up more."

"Oh," Castiel smiled. "This card game seems abnormally hard."

"It is. Sam and I have been on the road so much -you know how it gets, sometimes you're busy night and day, and sometimes you're bored out of your mind- that we've played every other card game to death. So we invented our own, which is the best parts of all the others."

"I must concede defeat," Castiel groaned, as Dean put down a King of Hearts. "The score is 20 to 3 in your favor, and I think my beginner's luck ran out many hands ago."

"Actually, I get two points for this hand, with the double run of suits an-"

"Dean!" Castiel complained, flinging his cards on the trunk.

Dean only looked at him sheepishly, grabbing up all the cards, shuffling them expertly, and, after rubber-banding them together, tossing the pack back in the trunk.

"You have to admit it passes the time," Dean said.

"It is also ridiculously stressful. My hand still stings from all the slapping."

"War is a stupid card game, but Egyptian Ratscrew is awesome."

"Sure, Dean," Castiel snarked. Remembering suddenly why they were there, he looked over at Jimmy, but the horse was still dozing peacefully where he was tied. "Jimmy looks much improved already."

"He does," Dean agreed, getting up from his chair and stretching. His phone buzzed in his pocket, so he fished it out and flicked it open. His eyes scanned the screen quickly, and he typed something in, before replacing the phone in his jeans. "So, that was Sam. The vet will be out in another hour. Apparently he's helping out, and Gabriel's with him, providing 'moral support.' Anyways, I texted Bobby so he knows what's going on. Do you want me to go pick up some food?"

"That would be great. I did not realize how hungry I was until now." Castiel got up and went to his tack trunk, in which he began to dig around.

"Alright, what do you want?"

"Surprise me," Castiel said, fishing out some bills and handing them to Dean.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-

While Dean was gone, Castiel took the opportunity to call Chuck, who asked if he needed to come in, and when Castiel told him there was no need, told him to call after the vet had come by. He also texted Gabriel to tell him Jimmy was looking better. He was surprised when his phone buzzed seconds later with a reply.

Gabriel: So, you making out yet?

Castiel rolled his eyes.

Castiel: Of course not. We played cards and listened to Led Zeppelin. He's getting food.

Gabriel: Oooh, that's hot. Is he getting me anything?

Castiel: I don't think so?

Gabriel: Alright, I'm going to borrow Sam's phone and ask for something. Make sure you keep it warm for me.

Gabriel: Done. BTW, I think I have a doctor fetish. A really bad one.

Castiel: I fail to see how this is relevant.

Gabriel: Samsquatch could be the veterinary equivalent of Dr. Sexy. It should be criminal to pull off the "sweaty and covered with animal blood" look that well.

Castiel: Animal blood? What exactly is he doing?

Gabriel: There's that spreading disease thing going down in the hog hall, so all hands on deck down there. But a cow got some sort of gash, and Sam's helping the only spare vet fix it up so he can come down and look at Jimbo sooner. And God is it hot.

Castiel: ...Really, Gabriel?

Gabriel: Would I lie to you, Cassy?

Castiel: Dean is back with our food. I will see you when you and Sam are finished.

Gabriel: GIVE HIM A KISS FOR ME! xxx

Gabriel: Wait, is it x for kisses, or are they o's?

Gabriel: Cassy? Did you read that?

Gabriel: Caaaasssyyyy?!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Didn't know what you wanted, so I got a bunch of stuff," Dean said, putting down several bags worth of food. Jimmy perked up slightly at the sound, flicking his ears in Dean's direction, but realizing there was nothing for him, nodded off again. "I figure Gabriel can finish whatever we don't eat."

"Did he actually steal Sam's phone?"

"Unless Sam decided to send -and I quote- 'Bring me something, Dean-o, and don't let it get cold. You don't know what I'm capable of. Ask Castiel, he knows.' And then a couple seconds ago. 'Tell him to read his texts XXX!'"

Castiel flushed red and apologized profusely for his brother's behavior. "I appreciate all the trouble you've gone through to procure this," he said, not entirely without seriousness.

"No problem. Dig in."

They ate in silence, until Dean put on another Zeppelin CD. Dean was about to say something about the song; however, Gabriel chose that moment to walk in.

"Interrupting anything? No? ...Dammit, Castiel, do you ever read my texts?"

Dean shot Castiel a confused look. "You don't want to know," Castiel whispered, quickly grabbing his phone and deleting the last several texts.

"You'd better have saved me something," Gabriel said. "Bleeding cows make a guy hungry. Anyways, Sambo will be here with the vet in a few minutes."

Gabriel grabbed the food Dean offered him and sat on the tack trunk between Dean and Castiel. "Did you miss me?"


End file.
